


Red Wings Aren't Just a Hockey Team From Detroit

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Blood, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Mention of Kimball/Carolina, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, Past Relationship(s), Period Sex, Red Wings, Season/Series 15, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, mention of MaineLina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Carolina is wound up and aching and horny as fuck. Wash is more than willing to help her out.





	Red Wings Aren't Just a Hockey Team From Detroit

**Author's Note:**

> Contains oral sex while a woman is on her period. So uh, be warned?

It starts with that twinge in her gut and fuck, she’d thought she had more time than that, but apparently the end of the war on Chorus and relocating to the isolated moon has played havoc with fucking everything. Carolina didn’t know why she’d expected differently. It’s only when she stops that things catch up with her.

It’s nothing she hasn’t dealt with before anyway. And apart from the twinge that grows into an ache, into cramps that squeeze her belly and that underlying feeling of grossness, it’s a normal day.

Eat breakfast  
Stop Caboose from setting the house on fire while making breakfast  
Fend off invasion of dinosaurs because they found one of Grif’s secret stashes  
Be relieved when Wash finally shaves off the abomination that he’d been calling a beard and the rest of them had been calling increasingly ridiculous names.   
Try to relax.   
Relax  
Relax  
Relax  
Rel-  
Fuck this.

“You okay boss?”   
Wash steps back out of range when she swipes a foot out at him, but she’s off by a fraction of a second, she knows that. He knows that. He’s the only person who would even notice so of course it had happened when they were sparring.

“Fine.” Her words are clipped and she makes sure that he can’t escape the flurry of punches, the kick to his stomach, the blow to his legs. He is going down and no part of her own anatomy is going to stop that.

Wash goes down. 

There’s a grin on Carolina’s face when she offers him a hand up. He squeezes her fingers for a moment before stepped back and moving to stretch out. She likes watching him, the muscles across his back, the lean but strong legs. And she’s getting to see that more than ever these days. Even she has stopped wearing armour 24/7. It’s strange, but she likes it. It feels like she can breathe again.

And It makes lust pool in her stomach and sink lower, thinking about Wash and his muscles beneath her, his scarred hands against her hips or touching her breasts. 

No. Now is not the time.

She joins him in stretching, although she could go another round, another five rounds, and has to remind herself that it isn’t necessary anymore. That’s the whole point of being here, isn’t it? To try to find their own brand of normal, one that doesn’t involve living every minute waiting for the knife to fall. 

Another wave of cramps. Carolina curses beneath her breath and rubs her abdomen for a moment, a split second of concession to the pain before she pushes it away again. It isn’t even the worst pain she’s had, it’s just the pervasiveness of it, a low-key constant pain with occasional rippling bouts of more discomfort.

“Boss?” 

Wash, of course, has noticed. She sort of resents it. There’s a quiet horror in it being noticed, in having someone see that it affects her. She is supposed to be above this. She should be better than her own body, but it’s the one thing she can never entirely escape.

“It’s nothing.”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask her about it, but all that comes out is “The shower’s ready.”

Carolina ducks her head in a nod and heads off. Kimball, may she be blessed by the deity of her choice, had given them many things when they’d relocated. Houses, supplies, vehicles, but Carolina’s favourite by far is the enormous showers that each of them have. No more communal bathing, having to fight over whose bottle of soap was who’s. No more having the Reds and Blues awkwardly back away as though she was someone who gave a fuck about them seeing her naked while she washed away blood and sweat and grime, like she hadn’t shared showers in the military for years.

Her shower is huge, a wet room really, and the water is always hot rather than lukewarm and this is the best gift that Kimball could have given her beyond coming with her and developing the- whatever it was between them. But Carolina couldn’t stay, and Kimball couldn’t leave and she’s not sure that it would have worked outside the bubble of the war. Still, there’s a standing engagement whenever they’re on the same planet.

She pulls on the shower and then undresses, ditching her sweaty workout gear on the ground. She can deal with that later. She is starting to like the concept of later, at least partly because the concept of later no longer seems unrealistic.

The water is hot, a shade short of scalding, and it turns her skin pink as it sluices down her body. She lets the heat sink into sore muscles and soothe her aching stomach. It does absolutely nothing but fire up the other ache that fills her groin and cunt, that drags her mind to Kimball’s curves, and Wash’s muscles so much more easily when she’s bleeding out for a week.

She is hopelessly horny.

The tiled wall is cool when she leans against it, pillowing her head against one arm as her free hand glides down over her stomach to dip between her legs. The slide between her folds, already slick with arousal and with blood and so fucking sensitive that she shudders when her fingers brush over her clit. 

She imagines that it’s someone else’s hands there, touching her. Maine’s hands had been as large as the rest of him; she could have fucking ridden those fingers, and had a few times, let him fuck her with them and rub her to completion. Or Kimball. God, Kimball with her deft hands and smart mouth and sharp tongue, sharp in so many ways and Carolina had experienced the best of them. And now to Wash, scarred but still standing and rough in a way that came from rawness, not lack of care, thighs that Carolina could fucking worship.

All of them are good images, good memories, and blend and blur together as she strokes her clit, teases fingers into herself, so easily she feels like she’s wide open and loose and could take all of them as once. Kimball’s mouth on her clit, Maine’s cock inside her and Wash sliding in next to him, an intoxicating fantasy of fullness and affection and-

The shower door slides open and she stops, hand between her legs, and glares over. She swears if Tucker says he lost his towel again she will-

It’s Wash.

“Oh, uh-“ His hand rubs the back of his neck in the most painfully awkward gesture she’s seen from him. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you were uh-“

Carolina drops her head and lets out a huff that turns into a laugh, full blown and genuine. “Get in here, Wash,” she says, and flashes him a smile. 

He gives her a sheepish look and strips off quickly, giving Carolina just a moment to enjoy the view before he steps in alongside her. The shower is big enough that he doesn’t have to be close, but he huddles beneath the shower head with her anyway, seeming to radiate warmth. 

Wash’s hand grazes down her side to rest against her hip. “Feeling better?”

Carolina cants her head to the side, regards him. She tangles her fingers with his and guides his hand between her legs. He lets out a shuddering breath, almost as though she’s the one touching him, not the other way around. His fingers press up inside her, and curl, thrusting and spreading and filling her. She leans back against the tiled wall and lets herself gasp.

A slow smile, boyish and excited, spreads across his face. He sinks to his knees in front of her, water sluicing down, flattening his hair to his skull. His thumb presses against her clit, stroking it. She swears she can feel the ridges of his thumbprint against the too sensitive flesh. He leans in, rests his head against her hip.

“Want me to…?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. He wants to. He just wants to know that she wants it too.

God how she wants it. “If you’re up to the job.”

His grin widens and he pulls his fingers away. They come out bloody, the red quickly washed away by the shower. And Wash, Wash doesn’t hesitate for a moment as he leans in, presses his face between her thighs. 

Carolina can feel his warm breath against her, the soft puff of it against her clit before it’s followed with the rough wet heat of his tongue as he licks a stripe against it. It drags a groan out of her, and she drops a hand to rest in his hair, curls it between her fingers as he starts to move. 

What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in enthusiasm, in eagerness to please and sheer desire. He knows her and he wants her, every scar, every ragged mark, sinew and muscle and blood. His teeth graze against her, before his tongue returns, laving over her clit before sliding deeper, pushing inside.

She watches the bobbing of his head with vision gone cloudy from the steam. She twists his hair, guides him towards that perfect sweet spot, the coiled knot of tension, and he obeys, tun and lips running against her lips and spreading warmth inside her. 

She’s getting closer, so close, heat rising and spreading and Wash moves with more confidence, lapping at her cunt with sure strokes of his tongue. One hand moves to grip her thigh, hard enough, she hopes, to leave a bruise, and the other presses inside her again. It’s a frighteningly effective duo, an off-beat rhythm, each thrust and twist of his fingers matched with the teasing stroke of his tongue.

It overwhelms her, makes her gasp as release overtakes her. It’s a rushing thing, a taut wire being released hard enough to make her legs feel weak. Even the cooler tile can’t sate the heat that suffuses her body.

Her eyes must have closed for a moment, because when she looks again, Wash is pulling back. he looks up at her. There’s blood around his mouth and it makes him look feral and hungry and so far from the controlled display that he usually projects. 

Her breath comes heavily, but she clenches her hand in his hair and draws him up and into a kiss. She can taste herself in his mouth, blood and sex and everything that he is. She thrusts her tongue into his mouth, a mirror of how he’d thrust his tongue inside her, and doesn’t let go until he moans. 

“That good huh?” he asks. There is a definite smug note to his voice.

She makes a noise that counts as agreement since she can’t entirely get her voice to work right now. It makes Wash laugh, and he leans in, resting his forehead against hers. The blood is gone now, washed away, and he’s her partner, her best friend, the one who has her back.

“I’ll wash your hair?” he suggests., already reaching for the shampoo.

“Leave it,” Carolina manages to get out. She gives him a heated look. “Not finished with you yet.”

“Oh well,” Wash says. His voice is breathy, eyes going wide. “I’d hate to disappoint the boss.”

“Damn right.” And Carolina draws him in for another kiss.


End file.
